The first black sport utility vehicle entered the narrow street slowly, its polished surface reflecting sunlight off cracked pavement and aging brick walls that had not been painted in decades. A second vehicle followed, then a third, and the sound of engines alone was enough to make people pause mid sentence and look twice. In that part of East Cleveland, expensive cars never arrived without a reason, and reasons usually meant trouble or authority.
Felicity Brown stood frozen inside her tiny studio apartment, her fingers still holding the edge of a thin fabric curtain that served as both a door and a boundary between her private life and the shared hallway outside. The air inside smelled of fried peppers and rice, remnants of the simple meal she had eaten moments earlier after returning from a double shift. Her black and white diner uniform clung to her skin, heavy with sweat and exhaustion, while her feet throbbed with the familiar pain that came from standing too long for too little pay.
Outside, voices rose in confusion and curiosity. “Who came?” someone asked loudly. “Did the police bring bad news?” another voice followed.
Felicity felt her chest tighten. Nobody ever came looking for her. She had no family nearby, no friends who owned cars like that, and certainly no enemies important enough to attract attention like this.
Her name barely existed beyond the diner schedule and the rent ledger. The vehicles stopped, and dust lifted into the air before settling again like a slow breath. The door of the first vehicle opened, and a man stepped out who looked painfully out of place.
His clothes were crisp and clearly expensive, his posture calm and controlled, his presence heavy with confidence that came from money and certainty. He wore a white shirt that looked untouched by struggle, and his shoes were too clean for that street. Two security guards followed him, both tall and broad shouldered, scanning the surroundings with practiced caution.
Neighbors retreated instinctively, as if the air itself had shifted. Felicity swallowed hard and forced herself to step out. The man noticed her immediately.
His eyes focused, sharp and assessing, as though he had already decided that she mattered. He walked toward her slowly, stopping only a few steps away. “Excuse me,” he said in a measured voice.
The story doesn’t end here –
it continues on the next page.
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